cheap wine and cigarettes
by Cassy21
Summary: 'He kisses like she remembers, she wonders if he thinks the same about her.' -Rose/Kaycee, three years later.


**NOTE:** Crikey, I've not written in forever - apologies for my sheer amount of rustiness. This is based on characters mentioned in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and also from an old RP. General disclaimers of borrowing from someone else's universe apply. Kaycee is Nanii's creation, and Rox and Chloe are Riss' and Ellie's respectively.

This is for Nanii, because it's her fault I wrote it. I think.

* * *

_I'm here to tell I'm not okay_  
_And all those things you can never say out loud_  
_I want to tell you there was no one that I ever believed in more than you_  
_I want to know if there was anyone you ever believed in more than me_

- Bad Idea, Motion City Soundtrack

* * *

Rose knows this is a bad idea. Even through the slight haze of alcohol, she knows that Sober-Rose would not be doing this. It's a good job she's not Sober-Rose she thinks, a bottle of cheap wine in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other as she straddles Kaycee's lap.

She's pissed, well and truly completely smashed. It's her saving grace, her excuse for when she needs one. That doesn't quite ring true though; not even to her, not even now.

She takes a drag from the cigarette. She doesn't even smoke. She's not even sure Kaycee does. With a twinge of _something _she realises that she can't even remember if he ever did. Years and years of knowing him, and she can't recall a fact as simple as that. It's proof, as if that was needed, that this is not a good idea.

The party is at an old school-friend's, and Rose has no idea why she never even thought that Kaycee O'Malley would be there. It's dark, and they're tucked away in a corner. She has no idea where Chloe or Rox or anyone she came with is right now.

She leans forward a little, putting the cigarette between his lips. Her hair (already mussed-up) falls forward, a red loop dropping onto dark fabric of his top. She pushes it back behind her ear. She'd had a fringe cut in since she'd seen him last. She wonders if he'd noticed, if he likes it or not.

He exhales smoke as she pulls the cigarette out of his mouth once more, the one hand still resting on her hip almost absent-mindedly tracing patterns over the skin and bone. Kaycee always was handsome, albeit in quite a delicate-looking way, but now she sees more man than boy. Still they sit silently, neither really moving. They shouldn't be here, not together. They know that, but it doesn't make it easier to walk away. She takes a swig of wine and then offers it to him in turn.

It's been three (nearly four) years since they broke up, and they've been happy since then. Rose has, at least, and so she presumes Kaycee has too. He's got a job at least, and rumours on the grapevine (though she learnt long ago not to trust them) tell her that he's living with Brianna McLaggen now. She's had a serious boyfriend – _Seth Wishart, currently pursuing a music career in America. They're still friends, amazingly. Lovely, gorgeous, wonderful Seth: completely the opposite of the boy in front of her. Maybe why that's why they can be friends: Merlin knows she and Kaycee never managed it_ – and a string of flings. She's got a solid career in research: it's important and meaningful and professional and she's damn good at it. She's not some broken fairytale-doll, she's not been pining after him. She's been happy, so why the hell is she sat here?

The cigarette burns down to her fingers, breaking into her thoughts quite effectively. She flicks the remains into an empty glass – she's drinking out the bottle, so she doesn't know whose it is. Some of Kaycee's hair has flopped down in front of his eyes, and she uses her newly free hand to brush it away, fingers grazing his cheekbone as she does so. Her hips roll forwards as she moves, eliciting a hiss from Kaycee. It's the first sound either of them has made since they found each other, and the moment's suddenly charged. Suddenly electricity seems to be dancing underneath Rose's fingertips, and it might just be her imagination, but she'd swear that Kaycee holds her hip a little tighter.

Suddenly their quiet unnerves her. This isn't _them_: they're arguments and screaming and shouting and bickering and laughing. No, they _were_ all those things. _Four years ago_, she reminds herself, _four years_. He's still looking at her face, something thrilling and maybe a little bit dark in his eyes. Rose can't work out if it's lust or regret or anger or some heady combination of the three.

She still knows that this won't end well. Getting up and leaving would be the sensible thing to do right now; the thing that Rose Weasley, Former Head Girl should do. It's just, quite honestly, she doesn't think she actually _can_. She tilts her head a little, and it's with an overwhelming sense of stupid inevitability that their lips meet.

It's slow at first, almost lazy. He kisses like she remembers, she wonders if he thinks the same about her. One of his hands ends up in her air, the other on the small of her back, and she's pressed so close to him now that she's not sure if he's holding her there or if it's all her. He bites at her lip, and she almost laughs with relief because _that's _it, that's _them_ all of a sudden.

She kisses him for hours, she thinks, drunk on nostalgia and truly awful wine. It's only when one of his hands is under her dress and on her thigh, and his other is sliding up her ribcage, and both of her hands are slipping down past his hips that they break apart a little bit. He looks at her as if he's expecting her just to get up and leave, and she can't blame him because she thinks that perhaps that's what she ought to do.

It's not what she does do though. "Come home with me." It's almost a question, and even Rose can hear the note of trepidation in her voice, the fear of rejection creeping out into the open once more. Later she's not sure if he speaks or just nods, but the answer's affirmative and so she stands, easing out the stiffness of her knees and feeling the alcohol hit her head. She'd forgotten how tall he was, but he slips his fingers through hers and that feels more like _home_ than she ever thought possible.

They leave, suddenly in a rush now they know where this is going. There'll be whispers – more than whispers – tomorrow, she knows, but right now she cannot care. This is the worst idea she's ever had and there's nothing she can do to stop herself from going through with it. She avoids Rox's eye and doesn't see Chloe and these are mercies that she feels she will be forever grateful for.

She presses her lips to his as soon as they reach her front door, even as she fumbles in her pocket for the key or her wand or anything she can use to get in. "Rose-" Kaycee starts as she finally gets it open, but she shakes her head. There's time for talking tomorrow, she can't – _won't _– think about this now.

* * *

When she wakes up in the morning it takes her a moment to remember the night before. There's a warm, reassuring bulk behind her, and for a confused split-second Rose thinks it's Seth and wonders why he's here. She's about to roll over to see when it all comes crashing back to her.

Kaycee O'Malley.

Kaycee O'Malley has his arm slung around her naked waist. Kaycee O'Malley is breathing softly into the back of her head. Kaycee O'Malley slept with her last night.

And it was damn good.

Rose knows she was right – hooking up with Kaycee was catastrophic, far beyond the worst idea she's ever had – but right now, her mouth still tasting of cheap wine and cigarettes, she takes hold of his hand and closes her eyes once more.


End file.
